Poetry

Stolen Breath

Standing here I try to dry my eyes but

the rain keeps falling down.

I wipe them clean one more time, to look

around I see the tear kissed hands

in pencil yellow and pumpkin orange that pave

the road before my feet

 but I can’t see

where I’m going

for the rain in my eyes blurs

my vision incessantly, under the rusty

hue of autumn’s setting

sun, casting a shadow long behind

while I struggle through

the incessant burning in my eyes

to take another step forward

into my future

which, like the setting sun, shines

bright as the first rays of a morning’s birth

embraced

with that exuberance of a life

dying

to hold on to every breath

stolen

through my bloodshot smile.

Once more I wipe away the incessant

flowing tears

of joy, shed

knowing

I was able to share one more day

of this dying

life.

Micheál O’Coinn ©2011


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